


If Not I'm Telling Your Wife

by theydonotmove



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fix-It, I know Burr represented her irl but shh, Lawyer Hamilton, Multi, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:04:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5994196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theydonotmove/pseuds/theydonotmove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Reynolds is fucking sick of his wife and her fucking smug lawyer thinking they're going to get everything in the divorce. Luckily, he's about to walk in on just the blackmail he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Not I'm Telling Your Wife

**Author's Note:**

> I did the thing. I fucking wrote founding fathers fanfic ... I'm Canadian. Goddamn it LMM, what have you done to me?

It was late when James got home from work. He had pulled a double shift at the store trying to get some attention for the promotion he was after. Although, he still wasn’t sure why he was busting his ass when it seemed his fucking soon-to-be-ex-wife would be getting half his shit and a good chunk of his paycheck for the rest of his miserable life. 

He dropped his coat and the rest of his shit on the floor by the door. It wasn’t like Maria would bother to yell at him about it anymore. She didn’t really care what he did these days, as long as that fucking hissing tomcat of a lawyer she had tore James‘ life inside out and delivered the pieces back to her. The dude was like four feet tall but was full of piss and vinegar from the toes of his designer oxfords to the tip of his girly ponytail. 

“Fuck,” James swore as he spotted the state of his work shirt. He had been hoping it would last one more day before he could do laundry on his day off. He was sure it didn’t smell that fresh, but more noticeably there was a huge grease stain down the front, most likely from that one last dryer he moved before finally clocking out. Shit. 

He had three shirts. One was already crusty, now this one was unwearable. He had a shift in seven hours and the laundromat wouldn’t even be open for another nine. The third shirt was still in the closet he used to share with Maria.

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table to contemplate his options. He wasn’t supposed to set foot in the bedroom he once shared with his wife. He had been living out of the guest room of their apartment since they officially separated a few months ago. Neither of them could afford their own place in New York. Well, that was, at least until the divorce went through when Maria would be able to afford whatever the fuck she wanted and he would be able to afford as many refrigerator boxes as he could steal from work. 

As far as he could see, he had three options. Option one was disqualified immediately as it involved knocking on Maria’s door and asking for his shirt. See, that would mean talking to the bitch and he was too fucking tired to deal with her. Option two looked better since it meant going to bed now and sneaking into the room in the morning to get his shirt before she woke up. As appealing as going to bed right the fuck now sounded, he was worried she would wake up before him. His shift was early, but she was a naturally early riser. What if he walked in on her changing? God knows how her fucking lawyer would twist that scenario around for the judge. 

So it looked like option three was his only option: sneak in now and pray she didn’t wake up. 

He chugged the rest of his beer, stood, and toed off his shoes so his steps would make less noise. He slunk down the hall and very carefully opened the door to Maria’s room. 

“What the fuck!” he yelled. 

Maria certainly wasn’t asleep, though she was mostly buried under the big fluffy quilt on the bed. No, she was wide awake and sucking her lawyer’s dick. Well too, if the moans falling from the man’s lips meant anything. His head whipped around when James yelled. 

“Oops,” he said lightly. He gingerly took his cock out of Maria’s mouth and moved so he was no longer straddling her chest. Maria pulled the quilt up higher so she wasn’t exposed, but Hamilton simply sprawled out naked beside her. 

“What do you want, James?” she said.

“What do I -- What do I want? I come in here and find you fucking your lawyer and all you’ve gotta say is ‘What do you want?’”

“We’re separated James, it’s none of your business who I fuck.”

“It is now. You’ve just ruined your fucking case. Ha! You can’t have an affair and still do the wronged woman bit in court. They’ll laugh you out.”

“We’ve already proven four of your affairs, pre-separation, in court,” Hamilton told him. “And we’ve opened speculation on three others.”

Maria made a small noise that James couldn’t quite decide the meaning behind. He shook it off and turned back to Hamilton. “None of that holds water if she’s fucking around on the side too.”

“We already established that anything that happened post-separation was off the table. It’s why you and that sex-worker have never come up in court.”

“You built part of your case around being able to fuck my wife?”

Maria was slowly becoming more and more flushed, but Hamilton looked non-plussed. “Yupp.”

Suddenly, James thought of something. The way to make all his problems disappear. “That’s illegal!” he said, excitedly. “You can’t sleep with a client! You could get disbarred. Or worse.” He chuckled. “Alright, let me tell you what I want. You’re going to drop all of your demands for the settlement. You’re going to say you faked the proof of my affairs - bribed the witnesses or something --”

“I could get disbarred for that too,” Hamilton pointed out.

“Not my problem,” James dismissed him. “And you’re going to let me have everything.”

Maria gave a small shout of dismay and squirmed in discomfort.

“That’s right, bitch. The apartment, the car, the accounts. Everything. You fucked up babe. Now you don’t get squat.”

“You know,” said Hamilton, “the laws about attorneys sleeping with their clients are odd.”

Oh no.

“See, it’s illegal for a lawyer to sleep with his client, yes. But it’s not illegal for a lawyer to represent their lover. And since Maria and I have been sleeping together since before she hired me, but after you had separated ... You really don’t have a leg to stand on.”

James stared at him. Shit, was that right? He didn’t know, but the man was so confident something told him he wasn’t bluffing. Hamilton ran a hand through his hair, finally rearranging the impressive sex hair he’d sported since James walked in. Then James spotted the wedding ring.

“You’re married!”

“Yes.”

“I bet your wife would like to know what you’ve been up to. Maybe I should give Mrs. Hamilton a call? ... Unless there is something you’d be willing to do instead?”

Hamilton started laughing. Not the nervous chuckle James had been expecting, either. Loud, giggling, uncontrollable laughter like James had just told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard. 

James didn’t even have time to express his confusion when it redoubled as Maria started screaming. Passionate screaming. Having your brains fucked out screaming. She bucked up off the bed once before falling back on the pillow, panting.

Hamilton laughed even harder. 

“What the fuck?” James asked, as the blankets near Maria’s hip started to move. 

A woman suddenly appeared from under the covers between Hamilton and Maria. She wiped at her mouth, daintily. “Mrs. Hamilton already knows. Thank you for your concern, though.”

James stared at the three of them in absolute shock. Maria was still in a daze trying to recover from her orgasm. Mrs. Hamilton had started stroking her husband’s hair as the man convulsed in what was now nearly silent laughter. He turned on his heel and marched out of the room. 

As he left, he heard Hamilton breathlessly tell his wife, “I honestly had no idea he didn’t realize you were there.” 

“She clearly did,” said Maria. “That’s why she kept going.”

James didn’t sleep that night. He went to work in a dirty shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> (For those of you wondering about Bless the Young and Rich, I haven't forgotten about it. I just have a mental block on writing it that's taking me sometime to get over. Sorry about the wait!)


End file.
